


The Children of Sandor and Sansa

by walkingtrees



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingtrees/pseuds/walkingtrees
Summary: I love Sansa and Sandor, the show did them dirty, but I want to continue on with what they gave us. This fic will focus on the children of S&S. I will introduce them as original characters and bring back some of the characters I loved from the show. This is very 'young adulty', so there will be a love story and conflicts. I have most of the story written and hope you will join me on the journey!!





	1. Sansa l

Sansa arose from her seat across from Clegane to look down at his scarred face gleaming in the firelight. All the rivets in his burned flesh gleamed from the sweat produced by the warmth in the buzzing room. Her time gazing down at him was short before she proceeded to walk away without another word. There was hope in what was little left of her heart that he would arise too and follow her out. She brushed the thought off, red faced but still confident, she walked out of the noisy great room. Still she clenched her wine glass trying not to think about what would happen if he did. For it not happening would make her sad. Truth is, Sandor Clegane had always captivated her interests unlike any other. He was seemingly so cruel, but in her heart, Sansa knew he would never do her any harm. 

Sansa thought about his harsh words within the remorseful conversation they had just carried out. By the time she left her thoughts to take a look at her surroundings, Sansa was almost halfway to her chambers. She stopped in a firelit hallway, alone, the noises from the Great Hall had died out in her distance. All she heard was the beat of her heart and the rest was silent. However, she must have confused the beat of her heart with what seemed to be the sound of loud footsteps. Sansa turned herself around in the narrow, candle-lit hallway, for Sandor Clegane in all of his might, to come into her view.

He was so handsome, his black leather clothes made him appear sophisticated yet formidable. Sandor’s face was twitching slightly but he appeared kind and gentle in her presence. She knew this moment was different… they were alone now. Sandor must have realized she was grown now and had experienced the horrors of the world, yet she knew the Hound would not reinforce those horrors. He was gentle with her, he had always been in his own way, and that made her feel powerful. She looked into grey eyes and said nothing. Observing his face, she knew he might want one thing, it was the same thing she wanted… she had waited long enough. Without letting another moment go by she walked towards him slowly until she could almost feel her breasts pressed against his chest as she gazed up into his grey eyes, locking her blue ones with them. Sansa felt the warmth of his body against her as she was drawing closer and closer to him, wanting a kiss.

“Sansa…” he gasped, inching further from her and looking away.

“Don’t do that,” Sansa answered back, almost reaching for him with her hands. She felt a knot form in her throat. They were so close but he pushed her away. 

“You don’t want this,” he sighed and finally looking her in the eyes again.

“You can’t push me away, I’m not afraid of you… I’ve never been,” she told him confidently and sweetly.

Her words seemed to upset him as he moved towards her, pushing her into the wall, pressing himself against her. Sandor still didn’t scare her, even in his rage he remained gentle, his right hand was holding her left hip with ease. He leaned on the wall with his left elbow next to her head. He appeared to be trying to frighten her or seduce her, she could not tell. He looked deep into her eyes and they were silent. The only sound in the dimly lit hallway was their heartbeats, which were both racing. She watched as his eyes became glossy and she moved both her hand towards his belt, holding onto it softly.

“Stop it,” he growled, sneering his head away from hers, breaking their eye contact. 

“Sandor,” she said back, not accepting and keeping her hands on him. He was willingly locked in her gentle hold. 

He turned back to her, Sandor’s face had grown mean from her words but slowly began to soften. He lessened the pressure he had on her and backed up a bit but still leaving her hands fixed in place on his body. “I’m leaving for Kings Landing with all the rest and I don’t think I will ever make it back here,” he said quietly, putting his head down. “I don’t want to leave you like that, little bird.”

Sansa sighed, but she didn’t feel defeated. This was their time now. “Leave then… but don’t leave me without a proper goodbye,” she told him, locking into his grey eyes.


	2. Sandor l

Sandor Clegane knew she was grown now though it was still hard to shake off the idea that the woman in front of him was no longer the girl he knew from before. She was beautiful still, but wickedly stern and powerful in her own right, a woman built from the lessons of the tough world. Yet here she was with the firelight flecking her auburn hair with deep blue eyes peering up at him, showing him the side of her that hid from everyone else. 

Sandor felt relief with each passing breath as he stared down at her, she wanted to be this close to him, to have their bodies touch in such a way. He noticed it in her soft eyes and her gentle grip on his waist. Sansa held him close to her in that dark hall of Winterfell, there was no fear in her eyes of someone seeing them together. She wanted to be here with him, it would not be happening if she did not will it. Sansa wanted a proper goodbye, aye, he could give her one. 

“What is the proper goodbye that you think you deserve?” he asked in a low voice, he looked down at her but his eyes drew away quick, looking around them to see if they had any guests lurking down the hall. He sighed with some relief as they were still alone, Sansa’s blue eyes peered into him and his heart began to beat faster than before. 

“Do you love me?” she whispered. He paused thinking of an answer, watching her pink lips part as she exhaled a sweet breath.

“Don’t fucking know,” he huffed. “I’m not sure I even know what love is.” He knew that wasn’t the response she wanted, the loss of hope in her eyes told him better than any words ever could.

Her face didn’t change though, after he gave it time for his words to sink in, she managed a slight smile, “Well I do,” she said. “Love is caring for someone, wanting to be with someone, protecting someone.”

“You think I do all those things, Sansa?” he asked her in the quiet, tilting his head a little closer to hers. Sandor breathed in her scent, it was the sweetest thing there is.

“Yes,” she said, tightening her grip on his waist, which surprised him a bit. “I do, because I do those things for you… I always have.” She lifted one of her pale hands up to his face and cupped his scarred cheek.

He struggled to find words to answer her, her response broke him. He had never had love before in all his life. He never fucking believed in it, it only drove people mad from what he saw in all of his life. Here and now all that didn’t matter, maybe he did love her. Sandor didn’t bother to ponder those fucking thoughts because here she was, hand on his cheek, telling him she cared. He didn’t waste another second, taking his grip on her, gently, and pulling her towards him. Sandor brought his lips close to her and they both completed the journey until they touched. If this was what love was, he liked it.

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The next morning, Sandor woke up in Sansa’s chambers and she was gone. His body greeted him with a headache and a great sensation that only a night with the most beautiful woman could give you. He felt uneasy but also the greatest he ever had. They met again the next night, the night before the Dragon Queen was supposed to depart with the Northern forces and her own. 

The next morning, again he awoke with the same feelings, but this time she was still in the room. The beautiful Sansa Stark was in the bed lying next to him, he felt as though he had been given all the gifts in the world to be there with her. He wondered what life would be like if he stayed in the bed with her, several thoughts came to him. If he were to stay there, eventually he would bind himself to her knowing he could never stand to be without her. Sansa was this fantasy in his life for so long and she made it all a reality in the last two nights. 

But Gregor… Gregor would always be in his thoughts. The years and years of torture and torment the Mountain gave him, he needed Gregor off his own ‘list’. To him, leaving her in that bed was justified, maybe he would come back, maybe he wouldn’t. Sandor left her with a soft kiss on the lips as she was sleeping as the morning light was finally coming through the window shades. 

As his horse trotted out the gates of Winterfell he thought how much he did, indeed, love her.


	3. Sansa ll

Twenty-three years later…

Sansa thought of a time in her younger days when the fate of the world revolved around the Dragon Queen, Cersei, White Walkers, and her brother in black. Of all the people who did not see their place in the world today. Jon was lucky to have made it out of that time alive, but at great cost to himself and even her.

She felt guilt inside sometimes for being the catalyst for the massacre of thousands in Kingslanding. Often times she found ways to justify her actions then, but there were none. The massacre of thousands didn’t justify her disdain and distrust for Daenerys Targaryen. All along, Sansa just wanted the North to be independent, with the Dragon Queen and Jon that would have never been possible. She never meant for the slaughtering of thousands by dragon-fire, she winced at the thought even all these years later and brought herself back into reality.

On this morning she sat on her throne in the Great Hall of Winterfell. The table in front of her was empty except for some candles with wax drizzling down the side. She looked down and ran her hands over her deep-turquoise, velvet pleated dress her daughter gifted her. She fidgeted with her hands while adjusting the direwolf pin in its place over her heart. Taking a deep breath she went back into her thoughts, diving into the uneasy feelings that always came back to her. 

If the Dragon Queen were still alive, Sansa surely wouldn’t be. She had to remind herself of that daily, but the most when she saw her children’s faces. None of it would have been this way if not for that loss of life. The North was peaceful now, the people fed and working their jobs, living their lives without the fear of being torched. She winced yet again and her heart beat quickened. Taking in another deep breath, Sansa tried to smile as she sat in her lonely throne room. Sansa was the only one at the great table now, Bran was in the South, Arya, she knew not where. This was the cost of her choices and the great, all-consuming game. Loneliness.

She closed her eyes but jumped with a scare as the main doors to the Hall opened and in walked her Hand, Lord Torren. Today he was dressed in all grey with the exception of dark brown leather boots. His hair was grey and thin, barely hanging past his ears. “Queen Sansa,” he began as he walked towards the table. Sansa nodded in recognition and Torren continued, “New scrolls have arrived. I think you’ll find them particularly interesting.”

Sansa really only cared about one subject in particular, “Any news of Sarya? The Lord Tyrion’s funeral processes ended a fortnight ago.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Torren answered, retrieving a scroll from a bundle he carried. Placing it on the table for Sansa to read.

It read:  
Mother,  
I will return home. I begin my journey when the new moon appears, sailing from Kings Landing to White Harbor. Expect another letter when I arrive there.   
Best Regards,  
Sarya Stark

“Seems she should be arriving very soon, your Grace,” Torren said as he rounded the table to take the seat next to Sansa.

Sansa smiled, “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

Torren nodded. Sansa kept the scroll in her hands a few moments longer and looked at her daughters hand writing. It was pretty and proper. It had been almost a whole year since Sansa had even seen her, knowing Sarya would be home soon made her anxious, but excited. 

“Your Grace, your brother sent words as well,” Torren said softly, handing Sansa another scroll. 

Dear Sansa,   
I hope this finds you well. The days are becoming longer and the true North will be coming into Winter. I mean to visit before then, for food provisions and to see you. I am currently in Kings Landing for the funeral of the Hand, Lord Tyrion, who requested a visit from me before his death. I was surprised to find Sarya is here as well. I have been keeping a watchful eye on her and I intend to make sure she makes it safely onto a ship when heading back to Winterfell. I will be leaving in a fortnight, on foot, making a stop by Winterfell.   
I look forward to seeing you cousin, as well as Ned, and being your guest in Winterfell.   
My Deepest Love,  
King Beyond the Wall, Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen

He was always Jon to her. It excited her even more to know Jon would return to Winterfell soon, she always loved his visits and to hear how his life beyond the Wall was doing. Jon had children now and a wife. His content in life made Sansa happy. 

Suddenly Sansa felt some anxiety as she thought of both of their arrivals. They would be just in time for Ned’s wedding too. Just in time to beat the Winter, as the days of Fall were passing quickly. The thought saddened her some as she thought about how 23 years ago her children had been born to her, on a day like the today.

Cooler breezes blew then and she cried out in pain as her mid-wives attended to her every need. The attending measure conducted himself quite well as he helped her bare twins into the world. On that day she brought a future for the North into existence. Sarya was the first of the twins to arrive, then Ned. 

As they had grown throughout the years, Sarya had become the most willful of the two, selfish in a way. She always did exactly what she wanted to do, though she was sometimes stubborn in execution. Ned was more fearful of disappointing. Unlike his sister, he insisted on doing things for others, he was easy to raise. They were Northern children will strength and fearlessness. Sansa knew he parents would be proud of them.

Sarya had been away from the North some time now. The last time was over a year ago when she left in a surprising turn of events. The month before he second betrothed was supposed to marry her, she vanished into the night. The anger in Sansa had subsided for some time since her daughters absence and she truly just wanted to see her face. It always changed so much, became soft and more confident with each arrival back home. Sarya had a knack for the dramatic arts and finding a way away from her home. Sarya would rather spend her time away from Winterfell learning a bit about the world rather than the North. Ned was quite the opposite. He remained in Winterfell and always stayed there. The only thing that took him away from Winterfell was a battle or Northern diplomatic affair. He opposed leaving his mothers for too long, which always warmed Sansa’s heart. Her son was loving, handsome, brave, and strong. Her daughter was passionate, dignified, willful, and beautiful.

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The ocean breeze of Kings Landing was all around her, it had already rusted her silver jewelry pieces. The breeze made her huddle into the abundance of furs surrounding her body, covering her growing lower belly. It was only a day after Arya boarded her ship to sail West of Westeros and Jon has gone away. She stood by the docks saying a goodbye to her little brother, the King. 

“Will we ever see Arya again?” she asked Bran.

“I’m afraid you will not,” Bran said plainly. She closed her eyes in sadness. “But you will see Jon.”

Sansa felt some relief in her heart, she did hope he would return to her one day. “Will he ever forgive me?”

“Yes… in time,” Bran answered. Sansa looked down at him and managed a smile. 

“I’m going to miss you, little brother,” she said leaning down to embrace his motionless body. She did this for a few seconds before letting go and proceeding to walk towards her ship that would take her to White Harbor.

“Sansa,” Bran said loudly. She turned around to look at him. “You’re the Queen in the North. With the power granted to you, you can always legitimize them.”

Sansa was confused for a moment before her heart beat quickened as she realized her brother knew her secret. “Them?” she questioned, raising a brow.

“Yes, I just have a feeling. They will favor you both.”

“I—” Sansa tried to say in disbelief. She was mostly in shock as her brother referenced him. She hadn’t heard anything about Sandor and it concerned her every day.

“He is truly gone, Sansa, his body remains here somewhere,” Bran explained, emotionless but gesturing towards the remains of Kings Landing. “Sandor Clegane found his relief… in vengeance.”

Sansa could do no more than to look her brother in the eyes and nod softly and slowly. Accepting the fate of Sandor and her future as a mother. When she finally made it onto the ship and it sailed away, she looked at Kings Landing as it grew smaller in the distance and sobbed.


End file.
